


If the Shoe Fits

by virgo_writer



Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cinderella, F/M, Romance, Shiz, Shoes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgo_writer/pseuds/virgo_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiyero's found the girl of his dreams, only he has nothing to go by but a first name and her ungainly choice of footwear. She's beautiful and impassioned and just being around her makes him feel like he's finally awake. Only she's not quite all she appears to be. Fiyeraba. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Shoe Fits

**Author's Note:**

> As the title will hopefully imply, this story is a Wicked take on the much loved fairytale, Cinderella. This is story is musicalverse, but I've borrowed a fair bit from the the book in order to fill out the political landscape of Oz. And Avaric, because Fiyero is always in need of a partner in crime.

Fiyero was bored, which wasn't particularly surprising given his philosophy. Dancing through life may be painless (for the brainless), but it tended to make things particularly dull unless there was some sort of party or mischief afoot.

Where were the challenge and the excitement when everything was so easy? Where was the spice in life when everything was going smoothly? He had simply accepted mediocrity in order to save himself the effort of wanting more.

So there he was, bored and mediocre (aside form his scandalacious reputation and astonishingly good looks) just . . . waiting for something to come his way and occupy him for the next stretch. His philosophy did not promote making his own entertainment beyond setting up the occasional dance and generally corrupting the students of whatever university he was working on getting expelled from. The whole thing became routine fast, but he was too deeply set in his easy lifestyle to change it.

"Avaric, tell me a joke," he demanded of his best friend, closest companion, valet, and sometimes-servant. The two friends sat lazed in Fiyero's current apartment, doing nothing but staring blankly at the dull ceilings and walls.

"There once was a man from Nantucket," Avaric began drolly, twirling a dandy-like curl in his hair around his finger as he spoke, "whose-"

"No, I've heard that one," Fiyero, Prince of the Arjikis, complained, cutting his friend off mid-sentence. "And that's a limerick, not a joke."

Avaric gave him a dubious look. "Don't tell me you actually learnt something, Princey?" Avaric scoffed, laughing obnoxiously at the mere thought.

"Not intentionally," Fiyero quickly said in his defence, not wanting Avaric to get the wrong idea about him. "It turns out there is a less . . ." he trailed off to pick the right word, "interesting version about a man with a bucket."

"Sounds dull," Avaric agreed, "unless the bucket had a hole in it."

Fiyero grinned, temporarily amused by Avaric's insinuation. It took him less than a minute to come up with the rest of the limerick, the rhyme easy enough to figure out on his own.

"Okay, now I'm bored again," Fiyero said with an aggrieved sigh once he was done snickering. He blew a puff of air up towards his forehead, floating his foppish golden brown fringe out his face. This garnered his attention for all of two seconds until he turned his eyes expectantly on Avaric.

"You're always bored," Avaric retorted drolly, sitting up slightly. "When I signed up for this job, I had no idea part of my job description involved entertaining 'his majesty'." Avaric waved his right hand around in a gesture that would normally accompany a flourished bow, but no other part of him moved from his languid position.

"Why don't you just throw another party?" Avaric suggested, as though it should have been completely obvious to Fiyero. "That usually holds your attention for a certain span of time."

Fiyero sighed. "I'm between schools right now," he told his friend with a tone of regret. He glanced almost longingly out the main window where there was an entrancing view of the Great Kells. If he allowed himself to think on it, he could almost imagine he could see the great spires of Kaimo Ko from here. "It's no fun when there's no one to corrupt – my last school is fully corrupted and my next is yet to be decided."

Avaric grinned sitting up fully so he could get a good look at his princely companion. "What'd you do to get kicked out this time?"

Fiyero couldn't help but share Avaric's smile. He wondered how he had kept the story from his friend for so long and was now eager to share. "I organized a little friendly competition between some of the female students," he answered vaguely, stretching out casually as he spoke. "Things turned ugly when one of the girls potioned her boyfriend in order to make herself available."

"I'm guessing she wasn't the worst of them?" Avaric questioned rhetorically, dark eyes flashing with mischief.

Fiyero nodded. "Just the worst the headmaster knew of," he laughed. "Round one was 'Ozland Bingo' and so I kindly volunteered myself as the only student from the West."

"There was a Quadling boy at your school?" Avaric asked, surprised that the xenophobic elites would let such riffraff into their school. It was one thing to let a Winkie prince mingle with the best central Oz had to offer (and this, Avaric knew, was largely only possible because fair skinned, Ozma descended Fiyero didn't look particularly Vinkan) but to let some savage Quadling boy near their precious sons and daughters was another thing entirely.

Fiyero brushed off Avaric's astonishment, ignoring what it meant for the time being. "No," he said simply, letting a lecherous grin pull at his lips. "Not a Quadling  _boy_."

Avaric gaped, laughter flowing from him as Fiyero's words sunk in. "God I would have paid to see that," he awed.

"Many did," Fiyero replied.

"See, that's what we need to do," Avaric exclaimed eagerly. "You sit here complaining about being bored when all we need is a little competition to spice things up."

"Yeah, exactly!" Fiyero agreed, Avaric's enthusiasm contagious. He sat straight up in his seat for the first time since he'd begun this . . . quest for something 'rousing. "We just need to . . ." he trailed off bewilderedly. "What is it we need to do?"

Avaric rolled his eyes. "It's like you don't even hear yourself when you speak," he muttered.

Fiyero frowned, taking a moment to refresh himself on the conversation. "You want us to pay to see a Quadling girl make out with thirty-seven college girls?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. While that sort of thing never got old, the memory was still a little too fresh to need a repeat performance. "I don't know about you, Tenmeadows, but Fiyero Tiggular does not  _pay_ to see girls make out with each other.

"At least not in any bankable currency," he added salaciously, nudging Avaric with his foot until the other boy caught his drift. Avaric pretended to look disgusted but he was clearly more jealous than appalled by Fiyero's  _quid pro quo_.

"Let me ask you this, Princey," Avaric began dramatically, stepping out of the couch to give his speech a little more panache. "Can you name anything more interesting than watching pretty girls clawing at each other to get a slice of Vinkus beef cake?"

He waved his hand towards the prince in a gesture reminiscent of an auctioneer selling livestock and laughed when Fiyero looked disgusted by the term 'Vinkus beef cake'. "Better yet," he said with an evil grin, continuing after a dramatic pause had sufficiently set the atmosphere for his plan, "respectable girls. Future ladies of the court and baronesses instead of your regular college crowd. Perhaps a Governess even."

Fiyero narrowed his eyes in contemplation. "I see some merits in this," he said dispassionately. He scratched his jaw thoughtfully, noting that he was in good need of a shave. "Continue."

Avaric rolled his eyes once again. "What more is there to say?" he asked, wishing Fiyero could be a little less slow. "We throw a party – invite only – for the finer folks of Oz in order for you to acquire a fiancé." Fiyero blanched and Avaric kindly added, "not for real."

"So we'll have a  _fake_  fiancé finding formal for the finer folks of Oz?" he questioned, considering the prospect aloud.

"Yes, but with less 'f's," Avaric grimaced.

"You know that's exactly what my father said about my report card," the Prince joked. Both knew well enough that the incentive that enticed headmasters to accept Fiyero into their schools despite his track record had the added bonus of buffering his course grades.

Fiyero rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I'm already un-bored just thinking about it," he grinned. "This is exact-tastically the thing we need to really stir things up."

"There's the Fiyero I know," Avaric commented, presumably referring to the bright spark of mischief that had returned to Fiyero's grey-blue eyes. "Using words that don't exist. For a moment I thought I had lost you to the realms of dusty tomes and arithmetic tables."

"We've got to do it Saturday," Fiyero continued, only acknowledging Avaric's 'wit' with a brief glare. "Who knows where I could be on Monday. If  _the King_  gets mad enough I could be off in the Badlands for all of two weeks."

"Four days doesn't give us much time to prepare," Avaric complained, "but I suppose you've organized a party in less. Just bear in mind that these society types like to prepare themselves well in advance. They might even have something else planned for Saturday."

"You think they're going to turn down an invitation from  _the_  Crown Prince Fiyero Illiiré Tiggular of the Arjikis people, first and only son of Marillot Oward Tiggular, King of the Vinkus?" Fiyero asked pompously, announcing his full name, title and credentials. "The only person in all of Oz that outranks me is the Wizard himself, and everyone knows I throw a better party."

"That you do," Avaric conceded, "and I suppose the allure of marriage will have them flocking despite your bad manners. As much as I hate to say so, you're basically Oz's most eligible bachelor right now.

"I think I know a guy who can get the invitations out in less than two hours," Avaric continued, mentally going through his address book.

"See this is why I hired you," Fiyero grinned. "You always have a guy."

Avaric gave him a painful look. "Yeah, but my guy is useless unless you can deliver the finer details, Fiyero," Avaric intoned almost gravely.

"No worries," Fiyero assured him, waving off his friend's concerns. "I've already worked it out. We'll host it at the Embassy in Upper Munch . . ." He trailed off as Avaric began to look almost disgusted at the thought. "It's Upper Munch so it won't be  _too_ bad."

Avaric's expression was little changed by this assurance. "Tetotalering little midgets," he muttered with all the superiority and disdain handed down by his central-Oz upbringing.

"It's not like we've got much choice in the matter," Fiyero protested, rolling his eyes at his friend's blatant prejudice. "If we hold it too close to the city it'll look suspicious. The Munchkin's will be so pleased to be noticed that they won't think to question any of it.

"Or report it to my father," Fiyero added meaningfully, driving home the importance of holding the shindig outside of Gillikin. If the King got word of it before the event he'd surely put an end to their fun, what with Fiyero being sort of grounded and still in plenty of trouble over his latest expulsion.

"I suppose," Avaric shrugged, "but you know this means you'll have to send an invite to Governor Frexspar the Godly," he said with a derisively lilt and a lip curl of disgust.

Fiyero grimaced. "You mean I have to invite some tiny Munchkin girl?" Fiyero complained. "At least she'll be so small I can overlook her."

"Please," Avaric said with a shake of his head, "the Thropp's have about as much Munchkin in them as I do. There are family lines in Gillikin with more Munchkin blood than his Eminence.

"I hear he has two rather unfortunate daughters," he continued, lowering his voice as though imparting a secret even though they were the only two within hearing range. "The younger is a cripple, and the older is said to be hideously disfigured. If you're lucky he'll keep them at home. If you're less lucky, he'll send the cripple."

"She hasn't got a hump, has she?" Fiyero asked, a shudder running through him. For some reason, humps seemed to creep him out.

"I don't know the details," Avaric shrugged. "Never really cared to ask."

"Ok, so other than the Thropp freaks –" Avaric grimaced at Fiyero's constant need to alliterate and his particular fondness for irregular rhymes and alliterations "– who else should be on the guest list?" Fiyero asked, deferring to Avaric who was a more wise of who was who in Oz society.

"Hmmm," Avaric mused thoughtfully. "Well you should definitely send one to Lord Chuffrey's house," he began.

"I thought he was a bachelor," Fiyero replied.

"I know," Avaric grinned, "but he had a fling with one of his maids and it will embarrass him to no end if you invite the little bastard.

"Sir Rosterdam of Thorndon's daughter might be an idea," he continued. "She's a bit below what we're looking for, but you can guarantee she'll make a scene. You'll need to send invites to the Wizard's court advisors, the Captain of the guard, and the Bishop. The titleholders of Gillikin need to be sent invites, although there are a few I'd like you to snub for my own puerile enjoyment.

"And you can't forget the Vinkus nobility. Miss Sarima will obviously be top of your guest list," he added jokingly.

Fiyero snorted derisively and Avaric just laughed loudly.

"Let's see . . . you'll have to send invites to all the major land owners, especially those around tiny tot country," Avaric continued, ignoring the warning look Fiyero sent his way. "You can ignore the bankers, but I'd invite a few major merchants because they might bring you something nice in a show of appreciation."

"Perhaps some of the wine growing families?" Fiyero suggested hopefully. "I know they don't really meet the description for this event, but they're awfully gracious and send the best thank you gifts."

"One," Avaric conceded, "so pick your poison wisely."

"So that would be . . ." Fiyero began, doing a complicated mental calculation of his guest list. He was ridiculously good at this given that most people assumed he couldn't add past his fingers. "About eighty guests, but I'll call it one hundred to give us a little leeway. Actually, call it one-twenty and we'll invite some of the old boys."

"I'll let my guy know," Avaric nodded. He did a quick check of himself in a large hanging mirror before striding purposefully towards the door. "You good to sort out the remaining details by yourself, Princey?" he asked, turning back briefly to confirm.

"Aye, Avaric," the prince nodded, annoying Avaric once again with his alliterations.

"Well then," Avaric grinned, "I guess we can consider this little shindig of yours officially on."

"Team Fiyeric does it again," Fiyero cheered, grinning with excitement. Avaric scowled and Fiyero sheepishly promised to think of a better name while his friend was gone. In the meantime he had menus to plan, bands to hire, and all sorts of intricate details to determine.

And suddenly Prince Fiyero Illiiré Tiggular wasn't quite so bored.

~ to be continued ~

Next chapter: Fiyero throws a party. A Fake Fiance Finding party.


End file.
